


The Bruises He Left

by Graynotgray



Series: Cut Me Deep [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: A whole lot more plot than anticipated, Akechi needs therapy, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, But also not anymore, Denial of Feelings, Enemies to Something, Face-Fucking, Hate Sex, Just generally being gentle, Kind of maybe?, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, Porn With Plot, Protective best friend Akira, Rough Sex, Ryuji probably needs therapy too, Semi-Public Sex, Switching, Tooth-rotting fluff at the end, Unrequited Love, Whether that something is love is debatable, angst ending, they actually fuck in bed this time, yeah there's a lot of that, you know the gay yearning?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:35:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23820016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graynotgray/pseuds/Graynotgray
Summary: Ryuji doesn’t want to be self-aware enough to know what all those stupid fluttering feelings are whenever he looks at the perpetually calm young man. He doesn’t want to consider what it means for him as a person regardless of who he lets bend him over on the weekend. Akechi Goro doesn’t mean anything. His friendship with Akira does.Or so he tells himself.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Sakamoto Ryuji, Amamiya Ren/Sakamoto Ryuji, Kurusu Akira/Sakamoto Ryuji
Series: Cut Me Deep [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719253
Comments: 12
Kudos: 75





	The Bruises He Left

**Author's Note:**

> A sequel to [this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23762650) in case you want to read it. I'll probably just throw these into a series because I do plan on continuing now.
> 
> This took longer than it needed to and it much longer than it needed to be but whatever I just kept writing until the ending slapped me in the face.

There's a bruise on Ryuji's hip where Akechi sunk his fingers in, tender marks around his neck that aren't in any way suspicious. His cheek and back both sting from the carpet burns and each time he speaks he's painfully reminded of the split in his bottom lip caused by those feral teeth. Each time he tries to feel anger, however, Ryuji can only feel a shiver run down his spine.

Because for whatever reason the marks that mar his body never fail to send heat right to his groin. But he would never admit that.

Needless to say, Sakamoto Ryuji has gotten accustomed to using makeup in recent weeks. It’s easier than having to explain, easier than saying he’s been sleeping with one Akechi Goro ever since he showed back up in their lives like the leech he is. Although sleeping may not be the best word to describe what it is they do. They don’t sleep; they rarely ever share the same bed and fuck if that hasn’t given him a twinge in his backside where it doesn’t belong.

Ryuji knows his mom’s been worried over the bruises, knows they deserve a better explanation than the usual beating, but he doesn’t want to tell her that her precious baby boy is out late most nights because he’s getting his ass destroyed by the same bastard that once tried to get him killed. Well, him and the rest of the Phantom Thieves. Or rather, one of them in particular.

Kurusu Akira. His best friend. A platonic life partner, if you will. His bro. His… fuck.

Ryuji doesn’t want to be self-aware enough to know what all those stupid fluttering feelings are whenever he looks at the perpetually calm young man. He doesn’t want to consider what it means for him as a person regardless of who he lets bend him over on the weekend. Akechi Goro doesn’t mean anything. His friendship with Akira does.

Whether or not that friendship will be affected when it inevitably comes out that he and Goro have been fucking is not something Ryuji is willing to consider. It’s probably why he finds himself on his knees in a dirty old alleyway, glaring up at a feral-grinned man with shaggy brown hair, cock in his mouth as if he’s at all skilled at sucking dick. Fuck, but Ryuji can feel the thick precum on his tongue and he isn’t entirely sure when he acquired that particular taste.

Fingers entangle in his hair, a steady grip pushing him further and further along on the rigid length between his teeth. Oh, and Ryuji could bite down, teach Akechi a lesson, show him just what kind of man he is, but the worst part about such thoughts is that Sakamoto Ryuji doesn’t  _ want _ to act on them. Even as people pass on by ever oblivious to the depravity right beside them and the ache in his knee extends to his hip, all he can do is scrunch his eyes shut and suppress his gag reflex as he feels the back of his throat come colliding with the head of Akechi’s cock. He wants to cough, wants to push back and take a deep breath of air, but he doesn’t. Because the stroke of leather against his bruised cheek is blissful enough in and of itself.

Dark eyes opening to stare up at the other boy, Ryuji tries not to gulp around Akechi’s desire. His tongue is lapping up at the tender organ, jaw wedged open painfully just so teeth don’t graze against skin. And then there’s a smirk that pries its way onto Goro’s face, an ugly thing that still strikes fear and arousal into Ryuji’s very bones in equal measure because that look means many things when gracing Akechi’s face. It means pain and pleasure all at once, it means hurt without the restraints of comfort.

And then he feels the grip of fingers against his skull and Ryuji takes as deep a breath as he can through his nose, bracing his hands against the wall and digging fingers painfully into the harsh brick. His mind goes blank for a moment as Akechi pulls him almost all the way off, Ryuji’s mouth hanging open more in surprise now than anything else as fingers stroke their way through his hair. He can’t help the little whine that vibrates out through his throat, eyes opening slowly as he stares up at Goro in a silent question. Akechi drags his head back to its rightful place, his nose burying itself in coarse pubic hairs as he is slowly pushed and pulled like a puppet.

Akechi looks thoughtful. Ryuji makes a confused sound. It’s been getting weirder and weirder between them lately; Akechi at points almost being… nice. Perhaps not in mannerisms--never in the way he speaks--but in his actions.

But then something appears to snap once more and Ryuji is given no chance to prepare himself before his mouth is simply used. His body writhes against every harsh thrust into his mouth, his lungs begging him to gasp for air on instinct but finding nothing but the merciless encroachment of cock and precum. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe and his nails dig into Goro’s thighs as choked sounds are coaxed past his well-plugged lips. At some point his eyes began to water, the lack of air, those hands clawing into his hair, only sending waves of desire straight to his dick.

Ryuji comes to with a mouth full of cum and painfully hard, Akechi knelt beside him as if nothing at all happened between them. One of his gloves is held idly between his teeth and for some reason, Ryuji feels his heart jump at the sight. It shouldn’t be hot. It shouldn’t even be cute. But it is, it is, it is.

Skin against skin is odd for the pair when there’s no malice between them. Here, as a thumb drags itself through a stray drop of cum on the corner of Ryuji’s mouth, it’s almost an intimate act as their eyes meet. He’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want to melt into the touch. But then the moment is gone as Akechi pulls away and wipes his hand on his pants, pointedly looking away as he murmurs, “Kurusu-kun is expecting us. Do try to make your depravity less obvious.”

Ryuji swallows and remembers to breathe. He spends the rest of the night washing his mouth out in the bathroom.

Later on that week Akira asks if he’s okay. A part of Ryuji wants to tell the man exactly what’s going on, exactly why he’s been walking with more of a limp lately, but he doesn’t. He just smiles and tells him that, yeah. He’s fine. His friend just frowns in response, as if he  _ knows _ but otherwise doesn’t pursue the question.

It’s better that way, Ryuji tells himself, easier than seeing the inevitable look of shock dawning on his best friend’s face, easier than feeling his heart shatter when Akira says what he’s been doing is  _ disgusting _ . Because that’s the only outcome he can imagine, it must be.

“I just asked because I uh,” And Akira’s cheeks go a tad red now, “I saw the hickey on your collarbone.”

“Oh,” Ryuji says, and he pointedly looks away as if to save what dignity he has. “Er, yeah man, I guess I am seeing someone.” He doesn’t want to have to say that someone is Akechi Goro, not when he knows the history between the two, not when he knows Goro will be gone anyway come February. Maybe, Ryuji lies to himself, it won’t ever come out so long as he doesn’t tell anyone.

Ah, but Akira gives him a look Ryuji can’t quite decipher. If he thought highly of himself at all, he might have thought it was jealousy, perhaps something that said Akira  _ might _ just feel the same way he does, but then it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared.

“One day you’ll find a girl, man,” Ryuji grins, slinging his arm around Akira’s shoulders just to feel the touch of the boy, “And until then I’ll be here for you.”

“Yeah,” Akira says hoarsely like he doesn’t quite believe what he’s hearing, “I know.” Just before they go their separate ways, however, Akira stops Ryuji with a hand on his arm. He tries not to wince at the pain that forces a limp into his already unsteady gait. And that look Akira gives him? Fuck, it’s almost like he  _ knows _ , “Be careful, okay?”

Ryuji doesn’t know how to answer that when Akira leaves him at the train station, and he doesn’t know how to answer that when he’s laying in his futon and he hears that familiar notification of a text beside him. He tries to suppress the urge to check it, he really does, and his mom is sleeping in the next room over but he just can’t help it.

Akechi: Can you come over?

No, Ryuji really can’t. If his mom catches him mid-escape, if she finds him sneaking out like he’s about to run away--it wouldn’t be the first time--he’s dead. Not because his mother would kill him, no, she doesn’t have a single violent bone in her body, but because his guilt would simply not allow him to continue living any longer.

But, fuck, he’s willing to risk it, heedless of his best friend’s words.

Ryuji doesn’t take a bag or anything, just shoves an extra pair of underwear into his pocket and hopes Akechi doesn’t find them. When he finds himself standing before the other young man in his apartment, brown hair in more of a mess than it usually is, his coat a tad uneven on his shoulders, he isn’t sure what to make of the way his entire body feels hot.

Ryuji decides it must be anger. It can’t be anything else. If it were, he’d know, even if anger doesn’t quite feel like a million butterflies are fluttering about in his stomach, even if it isn’t supposed to feel like his heart is beating in his chest. It’s anger, he tells himself, Ryuji is  _ known _ for anger.

He doesn’t hesitate to shove those feelings aside and cling to what’s familiar. Uncertainty, that weird, fluttery, feeling, all unneeded and unfamiliar in equal measure.  _ Anger _ is familiar.

“The fuck did you want?” Ryuji asks like it isn’t almost one in the morning and he doesn’t answer Akechi's beck and call. He doesn’t want to think about how he just lets the boy do what he wants, doesn’t want to admit that  _ maybe _ he likes it. No, Ryuji isn’t like that, he isn’t into getting pushed around, isn’t into obeying anyone’s command.

And yet.

Akechi sighs through his nose, giving him a critical look as he slips slender fingers from his gloves. Ryuji finds his eyes following the motion, finds the heat of a flush creeping up his neck, covering his cheeks. And he finds it’s deceptively easy to pretend that flush is from anger. The Detective Prince discards the leather garments on the table.

Akechi approaches and though Ryuji feels the pull of taking a step out of the heat that follows the man, he stays stock still as hands find his chest. They push back though not firm enough to move Ryuji, and the friction that comes from his shirt shifting up his chest is enough to make his legs quiver. His lips part in a silent gasp, eyes momentarily fluttering closed as those long fingers graze across the bruises that paint his neck in blues and purples.

It’s a gentle touch, one that Ryuji isn’t expecting, not when Akechi’s so close, not when he’s right there with his hands on him. And yet the usual heavy grip that constricts his chest in pleasant and horrible ways in equal measure is absent here. His eyes open and he’s stuck staring into dark red pools that don’t seem to show any emotion. They’re simply… focused, perhaps, as if concentrating on an exam.

Ryuji isn’t sure how to take that, but his cock begins to stir as a thumb presses down on his bottom lip then dips into his mouth. Obediently, like a good dog, he wraps his tongue around the intruding digit and sucks. It isn’t lost on him that this is weird. It certainly isn't normal for either of them. There’s no fight here, not battle that they’re intent on winning, though there’s certainly no love, either.

A part of Ryuji can’t help but examine Akechi in the quiet of the early morning, how his lips are slightly parted, how his hair frames his face in a way that  _ almost _ looks natural. Akechi Goro  _ is _ beautiful, Ryuji can appreciate that, but that beauty hides a monster.

“Come,” Akechi says as he abruptly pulls away and, like a spell has been cast on him, Ryuji follows.

The familiarity of the fight returns once Akechi pushes him down onto the bed, yanking Ryuji’s shorts off and exposing his ass. A weight soon lands itself onto his back, a growl pushing past his lips as he bucks and kicks out as if trying to get Akechi off. But of course he can’t do that when his arms are pinned underneath him like they are, can’t do that when his body is already beginning to relent to the push at his abused rim. A bottle cap clicks shut then the lube is thrown down beside his head, a wince being drawn onto his face as he is split apart on fingers alone.

“Get off, asshole,” Ryuji hisses, his protests half-hearted even as the familiar ache in his spine returns with a vengeance. Akechi hisses in his ear, nipping at reddened skin as his free hand travels back up his chest, now underneath his shirt.

“Is that really what you want?” Comes the calouse response, those fingers tearing out of Ryuji and causing him to almost let out a whimper. Fuck, even the sound he does manage to turn it into sounds pitiful, needy, like a bitch in heat. His body tilts back as if searching for those fingers, and then his mind appears to clear. With an angry hiss, he rolls over to send Akechi a glare.

“Oh, fuck you,” He growls before promptly dragging Akechi down onto the bed in a pile of limbs. There isn’t as much fight in Akechi tonight, and Ryuji somehow finds himself on top of the detective prince, straddling his legs as hands are pinned beside his head. He leans down, glancing at Akechi’s lips before looking away with a fluster. The brief moment of triumph is quickly shattered by the realisation that Akechi just hadn’t been trying, that he seems to have simply  _ let _ Ryuji do what he wants instead of making him fight for it. And it pisses. Him. Off. “What? No punches? No fighting? What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” Akechi returns and though Ryuji  _ knows _ that, he does, he can’t help but feel cheated. With a huff, he lets Akechi’s hands go, yet they remain where they are, instead allowing Ryuji to drag his hands down the other’s chest, tugging each button of his shirt open to reveal the pale of skin. Though Goro is indeed older than Ryuji, he seems more slight, his frame deceptive in regards to his strength. Dragging his mind back to the present, the brunet is tugging at his shirt, now, one pointed brow raising in a question, “What are you gonna do with it?”

“None of your fuckin’ business,” Ryuji grunts, dragging bitten nails down that perfectly flat stomach of his. Red lines are all that are left, raw and stinging, but ultimately not permanent. As he grapples with Akechi’s pants and throws them off, the realisation occurs to him that he could just… leave. Now that he’s won, however unfairly, he could just get up and go home. He could leave Akechi here and act like nothing ever happened between them. Yet he doesn’t want to.

There’s a reason he didn’t ignore all those texts, a reason why he never  _ really _ fought against Akechi. And that reason isn’t something he’s particularly interested in exploring.

Instead, he grabs for the bottle of lube and pops the cap.

“Finally deciding to man up Sakamoto?” Akechi doesn’t seem particularly bothered by the events as Ryuji slings one leg over his shoulder and massages the cold gel into the tight ring of muscle at Akechi’s entrance. The man underneath him tenses up except it isn’t for Ryuji’s benefit; his face scrunches up in what could be distaste, could be anxiety, and Ryuji gets the impression Akechi isn’t accustomed to feeling so exposed.

“Wanna stop?” Ryuji asks, the tease half-hearted as he manages to finally worm a finger past that puckered entrance. He isn’t entirely sure what he’s doing. He could lie all he likes about how he doesn’t  _ need _ to know when Akechi had been doing the same to him just before, but he knows better than that. For the question, Ryuji just received a glare.

“I will not,” Akechi hisses, and yet his words come out in a whining sound. His head tips back and exposes his neck, Ryuji finding his gaze paying far too close attention to the little bead of sweat that travels its way over the curve of his neck. He gulps and manages to get that second finger in.

Goro grabs his arm, nails digging in and just as Ryuji is about to pull his fingers from Akechi, the brunet casts a critical stare his way. Though his teeth grit, his cheeks flushed with the shame of being where he is, those eyes seem to say, ‘Don’t you dare.’

Ryuji continues, opening Akechi up as best he can while the other digs his fingers into the sheets. Eventually, the sounds of pain morph into quiet little mewls, Akechi’s back arching off the bed as his body relaxes against Ryuji’s ministrations, gentle scissoring and thrusting dragging sighs and murmurs of appreciation from the usually harsh lips.

Ryuji doesn’t usually have to consider whether his dick will fit into something, but he decides two fingers are enough. And by this point he’s pointedly  _ avoided  _ touching it at all just so he doesn’t come undone right there like a helpless virgin. Ryuji doesn’t want to consider the fact that, at least in this instance, he  _ is _ a helpless virgin.

Dragging his fingers out, Ryuji wipes them off on the bedsheets before reaching for the lube once more. Akechi slaps his hand away with a hiss. “You’re fine, just do it,” He grumbles, meeting Ryuji’s eye and taking a hold on the back of his neck. A shiver runs down his spine as nails dig into sensitive flesh and fuck if excitement doesn’t course through his veins just from the touch alone. With a challenging spark in his eye, Akechi leans up, their lips just barely grazing as he murmurs, “Isn’t this what you wanted from the start?”

With a growl Ryuji pushes Akechi back down and plunges into that burning heat, his entire body shivering at the contact of skin upon skin. He discards his shirt, throwing it somewhere beside the bed before leaning his weight down against Akechi as he lays there. The man in question doesn’t appear to know how he’s supposed to feel. On one hand his brows are creased with what could be pain, confusion,  _ shame _ , yet on the other his lips part in an unsteady gasp, the tips of his ears going pink as Ryuji wraps a hand around his cock. He really shouldn’t like touching another guy’s dick like this, a dark voice inside his head reminds him, he isn’t into other men--but Ryuji knows better than to consider that when by this point he’s long since been hit in the face with the reality of his own attractions.

Akechi drags Ryuji down into another kiss, teeth clacking together and digging into skin. Ryuji begins to move and is once again slapped in the face by the fact he has no idea what he’s really doing. Still, he kisses and bites as if trying to tear through flesh--and maybe a part of him  _ is _ . He can’t decipher the fluttering of his heart in his ears, doesn’t want to know what it means to desire being locked in this embrace, and so he bites and mauls and revels in blissful pain just to force those feelings away even for a moment. His lungs are screaming for air by the time they part, Akechi’s nails raking gulleys down his back. Oh, it stings to be sure, but it’s a wonderful sting, one that makes it easy to forget that he’s supposed to  _ hate _ the man underneath him.

Though he isn’t entirely sure when that stopped being the case.

Ryuji isn’t as skilled at coaxing moans from Akechi’s lips as Akechi is at doing the same to him; his rhythm is unsteady and each drag of his hips doesn’t quite feel right until he gets up on his knees and drags the brown-haired man onto him. Akechi seizes up around him, a loud groan erupting from his chest like the chorus of a romantic ballad. His back arches, hands fisting into the sheets beside his head as his face scrunches up in bliss. Precum smears across his belly as his cock twitches, and Ryuji decides that’s exactly where he needs to be. For once, he sees Akechi as more than just that asshole who tried to get him killed, as more than just a man driven mad by fear and isolation. He’s almost beautiful, he laments, mouth hanging open and hair stuck to his pale skin with sweat. Up close like this, Ryuji can see the little scars that are usually covered by makeup or clothing, the marks he’s never cared to really find.

With grinding thrusts and not an insubstantial amount of groans from his own lips, Ryuji’s climax sneaks up on him like time. His chest is heaving and his abdomen tenses up in knots and knots of the purest pleasure imaginable. At some point, Akechi buries his face into his pillow, biting into the fabric as if to uselessly quiet his increasingly vocal moans. And then everything snaps into place for the both of them. Akechi whines as he cums across his stomach and chest, tightening up around Ryuji who follows close behind.

In that moment, Ryuji finally thinks he knows what it is to worship.

The blond collapses onto Akechi with a pitiful little moan, his forehead landing on the other man’s shoulder as air escapes him. His body is numb and oversensitive all at once, like he isn’t quite there despite the very real fact that he  _ is. _

Finally, he pulls out and rolls over beside Akechi, trying to grapple for some semblance of air in the stuffy space between them. Ryuji can’t speak, and it’s only now that he’s cooling in his own sweaty puddle that his knee is aching. With a much less pleased groan than before he tries to massage the cramp from the scarred limb, to little success.

There is silence between them now as the dark night lets cool settle into his bones, and neither of them appears to know what to say, or at all what they  _ can _ say.

“This won’t happen anymore once we get rid of this reality,” Akechi says from beside him after what feels like an eternity of catching their respective breaths. As Ryuji turns to him, he isn’t looking his way, instead staring very intently up at the ceiling. It’s not a very convincing facade like all the times before, somehow this one seems more fragile, more uncertain.

“Yeah,” Ryuji grunts, letting out a huff. He knows. Akechi will be long gone and yet that look on the detective’s face almost looks… it’s like he  _ knows _ something that Ryuji does not, like it’ll be more than just a simple departure. He tries to ignore the seizing of his heart, how his stomach sinks and lets an emptiness come over him, but it’s hard, it’s so hard when every single one of his thoughts can only think of reaching out and dragging the other boy into an embrace. As if that at all would stop him from leaving.

He… doesn’t want Goro to leave. And it scares him.

“Do you think you’ll ever come back?” Ryuji ventures, feeling the saliva fall heavy down his throat. He feels like throwing up, like he’s about to break into a cold sweat. Akechi, with surprised eyes, glances at him finally.

“I…” The words fail upon his lips and fuck if Ryuji doesn’t want to kiss them. He pointedly looks away, instead burying his face into the pillow. “I don’t know,” Akechi murmurs. Ryuji can hear the shifting of sheets beside him and then there’s the gentle graze of fingers across his back. He arches into the feeling, letting out a soft sigh as Akechi drags his touch across the knobs of Ryuji’s spine. They stop at his hips, the flat of his palm pressing against an old bruise and though a part of Ryuji tells him to stop it right there, that emptiness where his heart should lie craves that touch too much to even consider such a thing. Another pause and then, “Would you even  _ want  _ me to stay?”

“Dunno,” Ryuji says instead of the truth, “Don’t think I even really know who you are.” That, at least, is the truth. For all the times they’ve fucked, for all the times they’ve hurt and been hurt by one another, they’ve never had a single conversation. Not like this one. That hand is traversing back up now, fingers a bit more insistently grabbing than simply touching, and Ryuji can feel Akechi’s desire against his leg. It draws a low moan from his lips, his body almost leaning into the other as his own arousal is stoked. He knows he should leave, he knows he shouldn’t worry his mom, but he doesn’t want to part from Akechi. Not now. “We just fucked a minute ago,” He groans half-heartedly, yet his protests turn into content sighs as Akechi’s fingers dig oh, so gently into his scarred knee, massaging away the pains in a way Ryuji never could.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Goro sighs, more content simply to nuzzle into the back of Ryuji’s neck, lips finding skin and  _ kissing _ . Ryuji jumps, a startled moan tumbling from his lips before he can so much as protest. His cheeks burn because fuck it’s embarrassing to make such a sound. He’d been expecting a bite, been expecting pain instead of the soft brush of lips, and then he hears a quiet little chuckle and Akechi nuzzles in close again. “Didn’t realise the unrefined ape was scared of a little kiss,” The teasing takes on a different tone now; almost softer in its landing as Goro nips at his ear. There is still a roughness to Akechi, however, a certain edge to the way nails make tiny screscents in Ryuji’s skin, a definite subdued ferocity in the way teeth drag over his shoulder. Yet everything’s… if before it was all sharp edges now it’s more of a gentle curve.

“Fuckin’ not,” Ryuji mutters childishly, pretending he isn’t absolutely revelling in the way Akechi lathers him in attention. Eventually, the detective prince simply satisfies himself with a hand tracing along the red lines he had created in their passions. There’s another long pause between them, neither really knowing just what to say in the situation. Ryuji knows he should get up and get back home before his mom wakes, yet he doesn’t want to leave the warmth of the man beside him, he doesn’t want to go and potentially not have something like this ever again. “So yer really jus’ gonna go?” His words are slurred but he asks the question all the same.

“I’ll be gone come the end of February, yes,” Akechi murmurs, looking away. Ryuji bites his lip.

“Oh,” He says, burying his face back into the pillow. He should get up. He should leave, content himself on the fact that Akechi will be out of his life. But once again he just feels that familiar… emptiness. But of course it means nothing. “Are you…” Ryuji swallows his question and shakes his head. He doesn’t want to know. Or rather, he does but he’s afraid of the answer. Instead, as he fights back the tears that sting at the corner of his eyes, he asks, “‘Kechi? Can I stay here tonight.”

A pause, and Ryuji wishes he never spoke, but then he feels lips press to his shoulder once more.

“Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! It's kind of funny, really, as I didn't initially start out shipping this pair. And then I read some fics and I couldn't stop. Help me.
> 
> Throw me a comment if you want, they're what's keeping me alive in these trying times.


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